


Ever by your side

by samariumwriting



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, No Tragedy of Duscur, Slow Burn, Trans Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24446176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samariumwriting/pseuds/samariumwriting
Summary: In a divided Kingdom, Sylvain and Felix were never friends as children. Instead, their territories have been at war for years, and Gautier have come out on top. In an attempt to broker a peace treaty, a deal is made: Felix will marry Sylvain and go to Gautier territory to secure the treaty.But Gautier's ideas of a political marriage are very different to Fraldarius', and Sylvain and Felix get off on the wrong foot because of it. And as time goes by, feelings start to get in the way of their firmly political marriage.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Glenn Fraldarius, Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 9
Kudos: 46





	Ever by your side

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to *gestures* this. Idk where inspiration for this came from but it hit me like a TRUCK so here it is!
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: there is a single instance of non-consensual touching, and Felix in several (non-sexual) uncomfortable situations. There are also some very minor references to sexual assault - nothing that actually happens/has happened between characters, though. If you're uncomfortable at any point please, please tap out for your own sake.
> 
> Otherwise, I hope you enjoy! :)
> 
> Edit: as of 19/09/2020, this chapter looks slightly different! I made some small edits, added dates to each scene so you can get an idea of the timeframe of this fic, and added a new scene at the beginning

_1st Red Wolf Moon, 1179_

Felix knew that this was their final chance. Ahead of him, the forces of Gautier massed across the river, immense and dangerous. Maybe he would win today. Maybe he would lose. If they won, the struggle continued. If they lost...

He didn't want to think about what happened to an exhausted territory like Fraldarius in defeat.

His hand found his sword's hilt, and his eyes found his brother. To his left, Glenn was the picture of preparedness. While he was young, relatively inexperienced on the front lines, Glenn had years more experience under his belt. He was the commander at this front, and the lives of hundreds rest on his shoulders. More, if you thought of the rest of Fraldarius, waiting at home for victory to return to their lands.

"You ready?" Glenn asked. He always sounded so confident, but Felix knew better. This was important, and there was no way he wasn't nervous.

Felix? Well, if it weren't for his hand on his sword and his confidence in his ability to stay alive, he'd be quaking in his boots. "Yes," he said. His eyes found the Gautier army again - at its head stood a young man, his hair flaming red against the dark backdrop of the banners carried behind him. Felix couldn't see his face, but poised for action atop a huge, black horse, he looked more confident than anything.

Maybe he was right to be.

"Alright," Glenn said. His voice didn't shake, but Felix had spoken to him the night before. He knew how much this weighed on all of them. "Soldiers of Fraldarius!" His voice carried across the plains, and a roar answered him. "Today, we fight for our lands and our people. Do the pride of our territory proud!"

The world held its breath as the battle that would decide everything began, but Felix didn't have time to stop. He drew his sword and charged.

* * *

_14th Red Wolf Moon, 1179  
_

Felix kept his hand on the hilt of the sword at his belt throughout the first day of peace negotiations. Most of it went over his head; he wasn’t a politician, nor was he a diplomat. Paying attention was hard, and he didn't really need to in the end. He was just there to make it look like Fraldarius wasn't down to its last man.

The talks went on and on, well into the afternoon. And while Felix knew little of diplomacy, he knew what his father looked like when he’d been pushed into a corner. He kept glancing over at Felix, and then at Glenn. Eventually, he reached his limit.

“My sons,” he said as he turned to them, voice heavy. “You...do not have to agree to what I am about to ask of you, but know that if you do, you will be doing your duty for Fraldarius most admirably.” 

Felix looked up at him and nodded. He didn't know what there was to be done in a situation like this; maybe he _should_ havepaid attention to some of his diplomacy lessons. But he was here now, the defeated party, and he understood what it meant when his father invoked duty with his children: things were nothing short of dire.

“Margrave Gautier’s son is keen on taking a prize from this conquest," he said. Felix's gaze followed his father's, over towards the familiar sight of one Sylvain Gautier; the talented young general and heir who led the Margrave's forces to the final victory of the war. "He has requested one of you."

“I’ll do it,” Glenn said immediately. His voice wavered a little. Losing this conflict had been hard on him. Hard on everyone.

Felix hesitated. He wanted to be able to serve his territory with his sword, not with his... whatever this was. But if this would help keep the peace, it would save far more than he ever could with force. He nodded. “If he wants me, I’ll go.”

Rodrigue turned to the Margrave, whose eyes roamed over the pair of them. He looked to his son, surveying them both with cold eyes. “That one,” he said, indicating Felix. Margrave Gautier nodded.

And that was it. There were more negotiations to be completed that day - the sun had barely started its descent - but whatever he'd agreed to when he was chosen as a 'prize' took Felix out of the picture. "Stand," the Margrave said. He'd barely spared Felix a second glance throughout most of that day, but now the full force of his attention fixed Felix in place. He didn't like it. "You will follow my son's servants."

Felix didn't have the guts to do more than hesitate; he had no idea what the future held, but he was smart enough to leap the first hurdle. He stood and followed them through several corridors of the outpost, right into its heart. "These are the lord's quarters," one explained. "We will prepare you for the end of the day."

Felix barely had a moment to survey the quarters (plush carpets, a desk, a wide fireplace, a wider bed) before they pushed him into a side room. First, servants came in to bathe him, washing away the dirt of travel and the stress of the day; the negotiations had begun as soon as the Fraldarius party arrived. They pulled away the tie in his hair and didn’t give it back when he asked. “It needs to be loose,” they explained. Felix scowled and tried not to shudder as they washed his hair with perhaps more force than was necessary.

Next, they emptied some perfume into the bath. The scent was strong, too strong, and it left him feeling a little dizzy. They rubbed it all over him until he barely felt like himself anymore, instructed him to get into the clothes left for him, and then let him be.

Felix sat, feeling decidedly shaken, next to the bath. He stared at the pile of clothing. It didn’t stare back at him, but he felt like it did. He lifted one piece from the pile. It looked like a dress of some sort. But there were three of them, with different textures and thicknesses. He had no idea which one he was meant to put on.

The Margrave’s son arrived when he was still staring at it. He’d moved into the main room, the cold floor of the bathroom not spelling anything good for his body heat. In an attempt to stave off the cold, he'd put on the thin, sheer one, which hugged his body uncomfortably, and then the thick woollen patterned dress. But there was still the thing with all the ruffles and the...actually, Felix didn’t know what it was. It sort of looked like a shell.

“I’m Sylvain,” he greeted, as if Felix wouldn't know that already. “Your name is Felix, right?” There was a look of something on his face. Felix couldn’t decipher it. “They don’t teach you what you’re meant to do in a situation like this in the south?”

“Of course not,” he snapped, gesturing at the now much smaller pile of clothing and the shell. “I’ve never worn anything like this in my life.”

“Oh, I see,” Sylvain said, and the way he spoke made Felix’s stomach flip. “Take off the top layer and I’ll help you out, okay?”

Felix frowned at him. Sylvain kept looking. He sighed, embarrassed to admit that he didn’t quite know how to get it off. He lifted it at the skirt and pulled it over his head, only getting a little stuck as he did so. “What next?” he asked.

“This is a corset,” Sylvain said, picking up the shell. He bent the stiff fabric so it opened a little. “Turn round, and I’ll put it round your waist.” Felix did as he asked, trying not to tense up too much as Sylvain’s arms circled around his waist and brought the corset tight around his waist. “And now I’m going to lace it up.”

“What’s it for?” he asked. It was a little constricting.

“Your posture,” Sylvain replied, coming round to stand in front of Felix when he was done.

“What’s wrong with it?” he asked, looking down at his now much smaller waist. Sylvain looked him up and down and let out a laugh.

“You really don’t know what your father allowed you to do, do you?” he asked. There was something slightly taunting to his voice that set Felix on edge. “Have you ever heard of a trophy husband?”

“No,” he snapped. The room was starting to feel small. What had his father allowed him to do, in thinking he was following his duty to protect Fraldarius?

Sylvain sighed. “I’ll explain in a moment,” he said. “Let’s get the rest of this outfit on you, okay? Lift your arms over your head.”

Felix did so, feeling the strain of his chest as he moved. First, Sylvain rearranged the fluffy, lacy garment and pulled it over his head and arms, letting it fall on top of the corset and smooth undergarment. Then, he helped Felix into the woollen dress. When he was done, he stood in front of Felix and smiled. “There we go,” he said. “Let’s have some dinner. We can talk over that.”

He made his way towards the door. Felix didn’t follow. “I can’t go anywhere in this,” he said, embarrassment rising to his cheeks.

“Why not?” Sylvain asked, cocking his head slightly.

Felix looked down, avoiding his eyes. “It’s humiliating.”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with putting it on.”

“My father and brother will be out there!” he said. “This is- different. If it’s just here, there’s nothing- no one can see. No one can talk.”

“Felix, you’re going to have to…” Sylvain trailed off, looking closely at him. Felix felt very seen. Sylvain sighed. “Okay, I’ll let my father know that we won’t be coming to dinner tonight and get some food from the kitchens. Just this once. Stay here and I’ll do that, okay?”

Felix nodded, swallowing down the lump that formed in his throat once Sylvain was gone. He would not cry over this. He would not cry over the unknown, or the embarrassment of nearly having to appear dressed like this in front of his father and brother. In front of the soldiers of Fraldarius. It would have been mortifying.

Sylvain returned soon enough with a large tray of food. “My father understood,” he said. “I explained the, ah, differences in expectations. He’s going to explain it to your family, so I’ll explain to you, okay?”

Felix nodded. He didn’t feel very hungry, but he took a small piece of salted meat from the edge of the platter. “Explain it then,” he said, when Sylvain had been silent for a few moments. “You said something about a... trophy husband.” Marriage had been mentioned in the negotiations, but his father had made it clear he only had two sons. He’d thought that had taken it off the table.

Apparently not, and Felix didn't like the way his stomach churned at that. Not that he had any _problems_ with marrying a man, but plenty of people in Fraldarius would, and combined with the dress... it set him ill at ease.

Sylvain nodded. “You gathered that you’re sort of... part of the spoils of war, right? Goddess, I hate saying it like that, it sounds so crude.” Felix nodded. He wished Sylvain would just get on with it. “Well, Gautier is a war-filled place, though usually we’ve been at war with the north. And we have a lot of customs surrounding victory spoils. The trophy husband is one of those.”

Felix picked at a piece of tough bread before putting a chunk in his mouth. Sylvain, seemingly ignoring his discomfort, continued. “It’s just for show, I guess. You appear in public with me. We’re meant to be married, and sometimes people have children with trophies, but that’s your choice, and-”

“Why the clothes?” Felix asked, interrupting him. He wasn’t going to think about having a child with someone he just met.

“Oh, that’s part of the act,” Sylvain said. “You’re meant to be... pretty. Non-threatening. You can be as threatening as you like in private, of course, as long as you don’t kill me, it’s just-”

“So this is meant to be demeaning,” Felix said. He supposed it made sense. He was a symbol of everything Fraldarius had failed to do, and what they were willing to do to keep their people safe. Therefore, he was just meant to exist as someone to laugh at, someone to make Sylvain look better.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Sylvain said. “It’s just- most of the time when a victor gets to pick their trophy, they pick someone burly. Someone who actually looks ridiculous in an outfit like that, someone who’ll show to the whole world that this isn’t the life they’re meant to lead.”

“Are you implying that this is the kind of life I want to lead?” Felix asked, trying not to let his voice raise too much. He was very aware that this peace settlement depended in part on what he did and said. If Sylvain didn’t like him and sent him back to his family, they’d have to start all over again. His father's despair earlier that day told him that wasn't an option.

“Not at all!” Sylvain said, his hands raised slightly in defence. “No, I’m not saying you’d want this. I’m just saying you... suit it a little better than some other people might. Can you imagine the King in something like what you’re wearing?”

Felix scoffed at the image of King Lambert in a dress, a corset. And then he thought about how the Gautiers regularly visited the King of Faerghus, and how Dimitri attended those diplomatic exercises. His mood soured immediately. “So I have to dress like this for the rest of my life,” he said.

Sylvain looked... Felix didn’t know how he looked. But he didn’t like the expression. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s better than the alternative, I guess?”

“Better than you choosing of your own free will to slaughter my people, yes,” he snapped back. He closed his mouth. He could not let this go wrong; people would die.

“I don’t choose that,” Sylvain said firmly. “What I have chosen to do is give you some freedom here. If I hadn’t asked my father if I could take a trophy, he would have taken one himself. He would have taken your father, weakened your territory, and invaded again in a few more years. You would have sat at the negotiation table and watched your father in a dress, his eyes downcast, as someone demanded you or your brother this time.”

“So you’re asking me to thank you,” Felix said, putting another piece of meat in his mouth. He chewed it angrily as Sylvain prepared a response.

“No, of course not,” he replied. “Absolutely not. I know this sucks, so I’m not asking you for any kind of gratitude. Just trying to lessen the bitterness a bit. Is that okay?”

“That’s fine,” he said. He grit his teeth. “Tell me... more. About what this is going to look like.”

Sylvain’s smile was small, but it was there. It felt like a knife in Felix's gut. “You do what you like in private,” he said. “We tend to eat privately up in the north, more like we are now, so you won’t have to dress like this all the time. Just whenever we’re seeing anyone. When we’re not doing that, you can pursue whatever you like- what do you like?”

“I’m a swordsman,” he said, and Sylvain’s eyebrows shot up. He looked impressed; clearly, Felix's presence on that final battlefield hadn't resonated with him. Felix didn't know how that made him feel.

“Are you any good?”

“Why don’t you duel me and find out?” Felix challenged.

Sylvain laughed. “Maybe when we’re back on my estate,” he said. “When no one can see. When other people are around, you’re meant to be…” He looked away.

“Tell me,” Felix said. This would be more bearable if he knew exactly how to make it work.

“Goddess, I hate it,” came the reply.

“You asked for me,” Felix snapped. “Either break the rules, let me do what I like, and face the consequences, or tell me what I’m expected to do.”

“You’re right,” Sylvain said with a sigh. “You’re expected to be... docile. Compliant. Trophies are usually warriors, so they’re expected to- well, forced to grow out their hair, stay quiet unless they’re spoken to. Ideally you’d have some social skills and put them to use in diplomatic settings. For someone pretty and young like you the conventions are a bit different, you’ll have to-”

“Actually, I think I’ve heard enough,” he said, leaning back, away from the platter of food. He felt a little sick. “You want to make me look like a woman, and act like a wife. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“I don’t want you to feel that way,” Sylvain said. “You’re... you weren’t. Born a man. Were you?”

Felix set his teeth. “I was born as I am,” he said firmly, “and I am a man. But I wasn’t raised as one, no.”

“Of course,” Sylvain said. “I’m sorry. The point is, I don’t want you to- this isn’t a role a woman takes. If you were a woman, I would have asked for your brother instead. You’re just meant to- I’m sorry. I didn’t realise until I helped you dress that you weren’t…”

“It’s fine,” he said. He wasn’t sure if it was fine. Wasn’t sure if it was the feeling in his chest was because of the corset constricting his breathing or the fact that he’d just been put in a very delicate situation. “You- had more to say. Before I stopped you.”

“Oh, right, yeah.” Sylvain had given up on eating, and more than half the food in front of them had been left untouched. “There’s things like... I won’t ask you to do this for the rest of the peace negotiations, but since you’re smaller than me you might have to sit on my lap sometimes. You’re not going to be asked to get up and do a dance or anything like that- unless we’re at a ball, but that’s- Goddess.”

The weight to Sylvain’s voice was even harder to listen to than the words themselves. Felix almost didn’t care what he was being asked to do (he did care. He should have thought about the potential permanence of something like this before, but that was his fault and he was in this mess now), but the way Sylvain said it somehow made it worse.

“We should go to bed,” Sylvain said. His voice was softer now. “You’ll have to... get all this on again between breakfast and the beginning of more negotiations. Do you want my help with taking it off?”

“Yeah,” Felix said, swallowing down bile at the thought of facing his father and Glenn dressed in this tomorrow. He’d have to get used to it; it wasn’t like it was going to go away any time soon.

Sylvain’s hands were deft as he helped Felix ease the heavy cloth off his body. Once he was down to the final layer, they stood there. “I have nightclothes,” Felix started. Sylvain grimaced.

“You’re not really meant to have that stuff,” he said. “You could- you could borrow some of my clothes? I don’t think I have anything that’ll fit you, but it’s worth a shot?”

Felix looked at Sylvain’s general... form. He was taller than Felix, and much broader too. He wouldn’t have anything that fit him, that much was certain. But it didn’t matter, because all he was doing was sleeping in it. “Sure,” he said. “Where am I sleeping?”

Sylvain’s frown was basically permanent at this point. “There’s-” Goddess, he was going to say that there was only one bed, wasn’t he? “You’re meant to sleep in my bed. It’s big. Sorry.”

“Fine,” Felix replied. It wasn’t fine. “Just give me your clothes. The sooner we get to sleep, the sooner this stops being awful.” The fact that it would still be awful when they woke up in the morning was a given, but Felix had endured plenty enough bullshit for the day.

Once they were in bed, Felix’s form swamped by Sylvain’s shirt and trousers (keeping them up was going to be a challenge, but he didn’t have to worry about that when he was lying down), they stayed completely silent. Felix could tell Sylvain wasn’t asleep; his breathing was too uneven, and he kept shifting. He had something else to say. “Just say it,” he said. He wasn’t going to be able to sleep until Sylvain got it out either.

“I really am sorry about this,” Sylvain said. This again.

“Don’t want to hear it,” Felix replied immediately. “I chose this.”

“You didn’t know what you were choosing!”

“I didn’t,” he agreed. “But I did choose it. So it’s happening now, and you apologising isn’t going to change any of the bad bits or add to anything that could possibly be good about this situation.”

“Okay,” Sylvain said. “Okay. Yeah.” They lapsed into silence again. “Goodnight, Felix.”

“Goodnight,” he replied. If only to be the tiniest bit polite.

* * *

_15th Red Wolf Moon, 1179_

The next morning was no better for the silences that stretched between them. Felix woke early, the moment the sun started streaking into the room. He was used to waking at dawn, and his restless night hadn’t changed that.

Sylvain followed soon after, mostly because Felix got out of bed almost the moment he was awake. He couldn’t stand to lie still a moment longer. “Felix?” Sylvain asked, sounding a little bleary.

“Sylvain,” he replied. “It’s morning.”

“You get up at dawn in Fraldarius?” Sylvain asked, sounding almost... well, he sounded sleepy. Felix wanted to describe it as cute, but this was a man who’d willingly taken the decision to take ownership of him like a trophy, and he wasn’t actually a huge fan of that.

“Yes,” he said. Not everyone got up at dawn in Fraldarius, but Sylvain clearly didn’t know that and he happened to want to be out of bed.

Sylvain fetched breakfast for them, and they began to eat pretty much in silence. It was awkward, but Felix wasn’t inclined to try and make this pleasant for Sylvain. Besides, small talk could only make everything worse.

“Is there anything I need to keep in mind for today?” Felix asked after a while. He was tired of chewing dry bread in silence and needed to fix his mind on something other than mounting dread. “I don’t know how I’m meant to- behave.”

Sylvain nodded. “It’s okay if you don’t get it all in one,” he said. “I’m sure everyone knows you’re still... well, they’ll say you’re still learning your place.” There was a grimace on his face as he spoke. Felix nodded at him, prompting him to continue. “You didn’t contribute much to the discussions before, but you’ll have to stay completely silent unless someone calls on you, in which case you’ll have to agree with them.”

“Even if I don’t?” he asked. “We’re discussing my family’s territory.”

“It’s almost inevitable you won’t,” Sylvain said. “They won’t actually take what you say into account, it’s just for show. But otherwise you should stay quiet and try not to look anyone in the eyes.” That, at least, would be easy. “When we do anything, you’ll have to follow me, and only do something after I do it. Other than that I can’t think of anything.”

Felix nodded. It didn’t sound too hard, even if it sounded very boring. “I can’t talk to my family?” he asked. He didn’t know if he would, or if he’d even want to, but he sort of wished he could have said more to them. He hadn’t quite realised the kind of situation he’d walked into.

Sylvain shook his head, a sad look on his face. “No,” he said. “Maybe when we’re not at the negotiations. But as it is, you can’t show any sign of- of loyalty, or attachment.”

“You know an awful lot about these procedures,” Felix commented. Sylvain hummed, but he didn’t reply. “They seem complicated.”

“It’s just diplomacy,” Sylvain said. It was easy for him to say that; he wasn’t the one who had to do all of this. “You can write to them once we’re home and tell them how awful everything is. But when other people can see, you have to-”

“Belong to you,” Felix said, teeth clenched. Goddess, he hated this. He hated how it worked. But if this was what was needed to fix the mess Fraldarius was in right now… “You’re right. It’s simple if I can just turn my brain off.”

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” Sylvain replied. “Is there anything I can..?” He gestured hopelessly at the air. Felix was starting to get pretty tired of how sorry he clearly felt for himself.

“There’s nothing you can do,” he answered. He didn’t want to talk about how, really, he’d like Sylvain to find some kind of alternative route to peace that wouldn’t involve all of this. But he knew that was too much to ask. He popped the last piece of fruit on the plate in his mouth and stood. “You can help me get into all that tat.”

“Is it that bad?” Sylvain asked with a chuckle. He wasn’t done with his own plate, but he stood and went over to the chest. “Actually, you don’t need to answer that. I’ll feel like a bad person for helping you into it if you do.”

Felix huffed and let him get it all ready. It was fine. If he could just turn off and not think about the smooth layer against his skin, the heavy weight of the rest of it, the tight pinch of the corset, it would be fine. He could be fine. He just had to not think. He kept his gaze away from Sylvain’s eyes and kept his answers short as Sylvain helped; he didn’t think he could bear anything else.

Felix tried not to let his face heat as he followed Sylvain out of their rooms. At first, when he walked, he saw only Gautier staff and soldiers. That was fine, sort of, because even though he knew they might recognise him as a Fraldarius, they didn’t know him.

Keeping any kind of composure was impossible when they entered the negotiation room, however. Felix’s gaze travelled upwards for a moment as their arrival was announced. “Sylvain Jose Gautier and his companion, Felix Hugo Fraldarius.” The words were nicer than the reality.

The reality was Glenn’s chair scraping against the floor, and Sylvain’s gentle nudge to his side. Felix let his gaze fall, trying not to think about how the chair next to his father would now go empty. Or maybe it would just be filled with someone else, with him taking a seat at Sylvain’s side.

The talks were boring, and Felix couldn’t even pretend to follow them. It was just as the day before, but now he was crushed under layers of thick clothing. He felt ridiculous, sat in a room full of people in military attire. The clothes he wore the day before had vanished by the morning, and he couldn’t help but miss them. He felt exposed in all of this.

Not to mention the constant pressure of the corset against his chest. He felt - slightly weightless, really. As if he couldn’t quite get enough air into his lungs, and it left him adrift. That was fitting, seeing as he couldn’t contribute or do anything to change this. It was a situation where he was completely out of place, yet these discussions were the only reason he was in this position anyway.

They broke for lunch, and he followed Sylvain again. The previous day, he sat down to eat with his family for lunch. They’d spoken in low, hushed tones about the state of the negotiations, the things they’d have to say to pull something salvageable out of it. At that lunch, the concept of marriage, of a living trophy, hadn’t been mentioned at all.

That couldn’t be further from the truth at the Gautier table. Felix sat down in the seat Sylvain indicated next to him. His mouth felt sealed shut as men and women in Gautier colours filled the seats around him. He could feel all their eyes on him.

“You picked a pretty one, son,” a rumbling voice said. Felix recognised it as the voice of the Margrave, and kept his gaze firmly fixed on the table in front of him. “Why that one, though?”

“I thought he looked nice,” Sylvain said, and there was something to his tone that Felix hadn’t heard before. Sylvain leaned in right next to his ear. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. A moment later, Sylvain’s hand found Felix’s thigh and squeezed. He flinched, and heard raucous laughter all around him. They thought this was hilarious. Felix kept his eyes fixed on the table in front of him.

“He’s very sweet and little,” a woman’s voice said. “How old is he?” Next to him, Sylvain’s body stilled.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, and Goddess, had Sylvain not thought about that? “How old are you, Felix?”

Felix lifted his chin slightly, but didn’t meet Sylvain’s eyes. “Sixteen,” he said. Sylvain tensed further. “I turn seventeen in two moons.”

Sylvain’s expression shifted from awkward to an easy smile. “Makes sense,” he said. With that, he turned back to the rest of the gathered company. “He has got a sweet little face,” he said. “Nice cheeks, too.” Laughter again. Felix felt heat rise to his face.

“Red cheeks, even,” someone commented, and Felix didn’t quite manage to clamp down on the desire to cover them. Sylvain hissed as he moved, and he knew he’d made a misstep. His hands fell into his lap again. “Looks like he’ll have more than one set of those tonight Sylvain, if you know what you’re doing.”

“There’s no need for something like that,” Sylvain suggested, but his voice sounded a little smaller now. “He’s embarrassed.”

“He should be!” the Margrave said, his voice loud. Felix winced; it probably rang across the dining hall, which meant his father and brother would hear it. “But he’ll have to get used to the feeling, because it’s not going to go away.”

Felix decided that he very firmly hated being spoken about as if he wasn’t there. Being unable to reply made him frustrated, and they did it specifically because he couldn’t reply. That much, he knew, but it still bothered him. He wanted to be able to protect his honour, his integrity.

But that was the point, wasn’t it? He didn’t get to do that anymore. That was why they jeered and mocked; to show him exactly what his place was when he sat at the Gautier table. Sylvain’s hand nudged his gently under the table, and Felix jumped. Their food had arrived.

The only good thing about the resumption of the negotiations was the cease in the torment of sitting with the Gautiers when they didn’t have something else to do. The problem was that was then followed by another meal; a longer one taken at a larger table, with his family present nearby.

Felix tried not to look at Glenn, but it was hard. Because Glenn kept trying to attract his attention. He was mouthing words Felix couldn’t quite interpret across the table, making faces at him. Felix kept his face as blank as he could, trying not to react at all. He’d have to talk to Sylvain about what he could or couldn’t do again later, because it hurt.

It hurt, seeing the way Glenn’s face contorted when he didn’t respond. He hated seeing the way his father kept his own eyes firmly fixed on his plate, not even looking at his disgraced son. Not wanting to see. It made something ache in the pit of Felix’s stomach, and he hated it. He just wanted to be able to speak to them again. It had only been a day, but he missed them.

He wished he could just talk to them and they could come to some kind of understanding about all of this. He wanted them to be able to- Goddess, he hated to admit it, but he wanted them to support him through all the difficult parts of this. But he knew they couldn’t. Because if he spoke to them, it would look like he was loyal to them and not Sylvain.

Which was going to be a problem if he had to spend his whole life living like this, because he didn’t know if he actually liked Sylvain. Sure, he’d been accommodating and sort of supportive, but he hadn’t done much else. He’d admitted that the situation was bad for Felix, but claimed there was nothing better. He’d offered to do more, but there was nothing else that could be done. He’d trapped Felix like this, and he didn’t know how much he could stand.

“You’re being quiet,” Sylvain said, once the day was over and they were finally back in their rooms. “Are you doing okay?”

“No,” he replied. It was the truth; why say anything else? Sylvain grimaced anyway. “I hate it.”

“I’m sorry,” Sylvain said, even though he was the one who’d continued that mortifying conversation. He was the one who... touched him. “I should have asked for another day to prepare you better for this. Then we might have avoided lunch being quite that bad.”

“I thought I was meant to be embarrassed,” he said. If he was meant to be ashamed, why was he not meant to react to the words they spoke? “Why did they say... that?”

“That was too much,” Sylvain agreed. And yes, it was, so why hadn’t he said something? “I’m sorry. If it means anything, I would never-”

“You’d never hit me? Wonderful, thank you,” he said, making a point of filling his voice with sarcasm. Did Sylvain think that meant anything at all, other than that he wasn’t the worst person ever?

Sylvain reached to help Felix untie the corset, but Felix jerked away from his hands. “Don’t think you get to touch me,” he said. Sylvain winced, and Felix reached around to fiddle with the ties himself. It was tricky, because Sylvain had done the knots and he couldn’t see them himself, but he’d do it on his own.

“I’m sorry,” Sylvain said.

“Yes, that’s also what you said before you touched a man whose age you didn’t even know in front of a large group of people without warning me it would happen,” he snapped. Sylvain took a step backwards.

“I made a mistake,” he said, and at least he could admit that. It didn’t make anything any better. “I shouldn’t have done that. But all their eyes were on me, and they expected me to do something like that.”

“You could have at least told me this morning that something like that would happen,” Felix said. Or Sylvain could have thought about asking him how old he was. “How old are you, actually? Other than old enough to be scared of looking like a complete pervert.”

“I’m nineteen,” Sylvain replied, his voice slightly cold. Good; Felix didn’t like the familiar tone he’d taken before, or the strange one from the table at lunch. “I didn’t think. I assumed you were at least my age, seeing as you were at the negotiation table with your father and brother.”

“How old were you when you were first on the battlefield?” Felix shot back. Sylvain pulled a face.

“Fifteen,” he said. Felix nodded.

“I was the same age,” he replied. “And that’s the age, in Fraldarius, where you become responsible for the decisions you make about your own life.”

Sylvain nodded, his fists still tight at his sides. “I don’t think I can apologise enough for what I did today,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking about... I was just thinking about what they wanted to see.” What went unspoken, those words Sylvain couldn’t bring himself to say, was that he wasn’t thinking about Felix. He was looking at Felix through the eyes of those who saw him as a trophy.

Maybe that was how Sylvain saw him too, in spite of all his apologies.

“Well, you’ve made the mistake and you’ve apologised,” Felix said. “Whether I forgive you or not is up to me. No more touching unless I say you can.”

Sylvain nodded again, and he had the decency to look ashamed of himself. At least he viewed Felix as enough of a person to respect his feelings in part. “Got it.”

“Good,” he said. “Now please, Goddess, help me out of this forsaken corset. I think I might suffocate if I do it myself.”

* * *

_21st Red Wolf Moon, 1179_

“Can I tell you about what needs to happen on the night after the treaty is signed?” Sylvain asked a few nights later. They both stared up at the ceiling; Felix had thought Sylvain was already asleep, but apparently not. Maybe they were both kept up by terrible thoughts.

The negotiations were winding down, as far as Felix could tell. He hadn’t been paying much attention, instead letting his mind drift elsewhere to take his thoughts off the rest of his discomfort. “Go on,” he said.

“I have to best you in combat, of sorts,” Sylvain explained.

“Of sorts?”

“You know the city at the centre of Rowe to the south of Faerghus?” Sylvain asked. Felix nodded; he was a young nobleman, not an uneducated thug. “They have a founding myth stating that women from the neighbouring town were invited for an afternoon of festivities. Then, the men carried them off to be their brides.” Felix knew the story. They called it ‘rape’ rather than ‘marriage’ in Fraldarius.

“You better not be asking me to reenact that,” he said. Sylvain laughed nervously, and for a moment Felix’s heart thudded painfully in his chest.

“I’m not,” he said. “I just thought you’d recognise the tale. It’s more... you sit with your family or some Fraldarius soldiers, dressed in a tunic and the lowest layer of clothing that you normally- that you’ve been wearing for the last few days. I come to challenge your party, and then you challenge me to single combat. We spar without weapons, and I overcome you, carry you away, and-”

“You told me that we didn’t have to do anything like that unless I said I wanted to,” Felix said, remembering the first evening he spent in Sylvain’s rooms. Their shared rooms, he supposed.

“It’s not like that,” Sylvain said quickly, his voice sounding pained. “It’s more... after I subdue you in false combat, you have to pretend to submit as I force you into a- a wedding dress. And then we have the marriage ceremony.”

“Oh.” He’d thought the actual marriage would come a little later. Every wedding he’d ever been to was meticulously planned down to the last inch, with no room for anything to go wrong. But there was also no ritualistic combat, and usually no men wearing dresses. “Okay.”

“Can you do that?” Sylvain asked. As if he had a choice. If he refused to do all the things that were asked of him in marrying Sylvain, the peace treaty would fall apart in the wake of slighted Gautier honour, and Felix would be to blame. And then hundreds of people would die.

“I can do that,” he said. “Do I have... vows?”

“Yeah,” Sylvain said, “but you just agree to do what you’re asked. It’s not hard.” It would be hard on his pride. It would be hard on his family, whom Felix were sure would be forced to watch.

“Okay,” he agreed. “Do we have to- in Fraldarius, we kiss to seal a wedding contract.”

“We do that in marriages for love,” Sylvain said, and then he let out a laugh. Felix didn’t see the joke. “This is more symbolic than literal, though. So unless you want to kiss me to add some Fraldarius into the ceremony-”

“No.” The thought of kissing a man he’d met only a week ago made Felix feel sick. He could barely stand the sound of Sylvain’s voice, let alone think of kissing him. “No, I think I’ll manage without.”

Marrying for love. Felix had never... well, he supposed he’d thought about it a little, when he was younger. The war with Gautier had left him thinking about it a whole lot less. Now, he supposed he’d never get to do it. A shame, but that was how things went sometimes. It was how his life had turned out, anyway.

“I’m sorry,” Sylvain said. Felix didn’t know what he was apologising for, but whatever it was, words weren’t enough.

They lapsed into silence once more, leaving Felix staring at the ceiling. It was even harder to get to sleep after that.

* * *

_23rd Red Wolf Moon, 1179_

The peace treaty was signed two days later, in the early afternoon. Felix stood on the Gautier side of the table, his hands folded in front of him, looking at the ink on the contract. His father and brother both signed in blue, accompanied by the Fraldarius seal, and Sylvain and his father signed in red with Gautier’s wax.

Felix, with the major Crest, used to be the heir to House Fraldarius. He’d barely even thought about that dimension before, too many things going through his head all the time. Glenn must be heir now instead; he’d probably do a better job, but Felix couldn’t help but feel the loss anyway.

The signing broke away to a celebration, and Sylvain took him aside into another room at the first opportunity. “You can change into this,” he said, handing Felix a tunic and a hair tie. It was one of his tunics, so it must have been taken from his quarters. The quarters he’d never actually slept in, because he’d been taken away before even the first night of these negotiations.

Felix gladly pulled the top two layers of his clothing off. He moved to unlace the corset too, but Sylvain stopped him. “It takes too long to put on,” he said. “You won’t want everyone watching you as I do it.”

“I don’t want them watching me anyway,” he said tersely, and Sylvain nodded, drawing back again. Felix left the corset on and pulled the tunic over his head. It felt cool, comfortable, and light. He couldn’t wait to be out of watching eyes and into a space where he could wear what he wanted again.

“Okay,” Sylvain said once he was ready, his hair twisted into a loose bun. “You remember what you need to do?”

“I sit with my family,” Felix said. “Am I allowed to talk to them?” He meant for his question to sound pointed, but it sounded pathetic instead.

“Yeah, you can talk,” Sylvain said with a nod.

“Good, because I’m going to.” They both knew he wouldn’t if he wasn’t allowed. “You come over and challenge us to a fight. I volunteer for single combat, my body as forfeit. Then I lose, and you do what you want with me.”

“It’s not-”

“It’s absolutely like that,” he said, and Sylvain sighed. Nodded again. “I know the rest anyway. It’s fine, I won’t mess up your precious marriage tradition.”

“It’s not precious to me,” Sylvain said. That didn’t matter to Felix. He didn’t care how precious or not it was for Sylvain, just that it was happening and it was because of him.

Felix didn’t say much in reply. Sylvain exited the room first, and Felix followed soon after; another thing he’d probably be doing for the rest of his life. But unlike all the times before, they split, and Felix went to the Fraldarius side of the gathering.

He slumped down next to his brother, who hurriedly scooted across on the bench, looking at him like he was some kind of- Felix didn’t know. “Felix!” he cheered, slinging an arm around him. Felix let him. “Why are you- is this some kind of trick?”

“It’s part of the show,” he said, a bitter taste filling his mouth. “We won’t have long.” He looked up at his father, whose gaze was sad. So sad. Felix felt a small bite of anger as he saw it; he knew it wasn’t really his father’s fault that things had come to this, but he couldn’t help but blame him just a little. Had his father known what he was volunteering him for?

“Right you are,” Glenn said, leaning a little closer. Normally, Felix would complain, but it was good to feel the touch of someone who actually cared about him. “Fe, are you... okay with this?”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Felix replied, letting out a bark of laughter. It sounded jaded. “Though I suppose the answer would be the same no matter what you asked: not really. But it’s better than the alternative.”

“And the Gautier boy?” he demanded. “Because if he’s doing anything without your consent, I will chop his d-”

“Glenn,” Rodrigue warned, speaking for the first time since Felix sat down. He sounded so tired. Glenn stopped speaking.

“He wouldn’t,” Felix said. “He’s-” Could he describe Sylvain as good? Okay? He didn’t know what the appropriate descriptor really was. “Not the worst person in the world.” That was enough. “He doesn’t want to hurt me any more than this already will.” And it had definitely hurt him already.

“And you’ve explained-” Glenn gestured to the air. Felix raised an eyebrow at him. “With the dresses. And you.”

Felix chuckled. That too sounded distinctly lacking in humour. “He said he would have picked you instead if he’d known.”

That, at least, had Glenn throwing his head back in laughter. And then he stopped, his gaze catching sight of something. Felix looked over to see Sylvain, who had risen from his table with a whole squad of soldiers. Already? Felix had expected to at least be able to eat first.

Then again, this was a celebration feast, wasn’t it? So why not make it into a wedding feast at the same time?

When Felix moved to stand, Glenn reached for his hand. Squeezed it once, and then let it drop. “You’ve got this, Fe,” he said.

Sylvain was getting closer. Felix tried not to look over at his father, but he couldn’t stop himself. Rodrigue smiled in a way that was probably meant to look encouraging but actually just looked pretty sad. “I’m proud of you, Felix,” he said. “This is a duty that many men would not be able to do.”

Yeah. Felix could fill in the gaps on that one; if they were real knights, real soldiers, they would have died on the battlefield. As it was, they lived, and Felix preferred it that way, but he couldn’t quite be sure his father did.

He turned away, and his eyes met Sylvain's. “In the name of Gautier’s pride, I, Sylvain Jose Gautier, challenge you, House Fraldarius, to a battle,” Sylvain said. His voice held that same note that sounded so completely different to the way he sounded in private.

Felix swallowed. “In return to your challenge, I raise you a duel,” he said. “No weapons. My body as forfeit.”

“I accept your challenge, Felix Hugo Fraldarius,” Sylvain replied. The soldiers around them cleared into a loose circle. Sylvain lowered himself into a fighting stance, and Felix mimicked it.

For a moment, just as Sylvain surged forwards, Felix considered fighting to win. Sylvain was expecting him to lose, so if he won he could get out of the whole thing. But that wasn’t how this worked. This wasn’t a real fight. There was no honour here, no control, no agency.

Felix swiped for a single weak punch, one he knew Sylvain would dodge. Sylvain went low, and Felix let him. He was swept off his feet, and he landed heavily on the ground. Sylvain leaned in close, his heavy weight resting against Felix’s left arm. “Yield,” he said. Felix continued to struggle, if only for the show of it. “Yield.”

Felix let his body go limp as numbness sparked in his arm. A cheer went up from the crowd surrounding them, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to see the triumphant look on Sylvain’s face, even if he claimed it was all a facade.

Sylvain hoisted him up from the ground, easily pulling Felix close to his chest. He carried him across the hall and deposited him back down, lifting a stark white wedding dress from the chest next to him. Felix sat there, his body limp, his gaze trying to find nothing at all, as Sylvain pulled it over his head. He really didn’t want to know what he looked like right now.

Finally, Sylvain pulled the hair tie from his head and let Felix’s hair cascade over his shoulders. “You can stand,” he said, offering Felix a hand. Felix bit back to urge to spit at him and took it, letting Sylvain take the brunt of his weight in pulling him up. Then, Sylvain led Felix by the hand to the Margrave.

This wasn’t something he’d been told about. Sylvain left him, walking down the centre of the hallway. Felix spared a quick glance at the left hand side; Glenn’s face was filled with anger. He wished he didn’t have to see it. The Margrave looked down at him, something akin to a smile on his face, and gripped Felix’s arm firmly. He could practically feel it bruising.

The Gautier party in the hall cheered as the Margrave tugged Felix down the centre, up towards where Sylvain waited. At the head of the room stood a man Felix recognised as a priest.

Felix swallowed down the bitter taste in his mouth. He had to do this. He had to see this through, or so many more people would die. He took a deep breath and let his mind wander far away, to some place where this wasn’t happening. It helped him ignore the tight grip on his arm.

When they reached the head of the hall, the Margrave positioned Felix in front of Sylvain and drew their hands together before he went to sit down. Felix’s eyes found Sylvain’s, just for a moment. “Sorry,” Sylvain mouthed. Felix let his eyes drop to their enjoined hands.

“Today,” the priest began, “we bear witness to this ceremony of matrimony. May the Goddess bless this union.” Another cheer went up, and when it was gone the silence rang in Felix’s ears. “Sylvain Jose Gautier, if you could begin with your vows.”

“I, Sylvain Jose Gautier, wish to take this man, Felix Hugo Fraldarius, as my husband,” he said. “For I have won him by right through the force of my will. I will protect and guard him, and see he comes to no harm. And I will keep him steady and true to my name and my will.” As he spoke, he squeezed Felix’s hands. Felix felt slightly queasy from the force of his anger.

“May the Goddess guide you in this task,” the priest said. “Felix Hugo Fraldarius, do you submit your being to this man, acknowledging his victory over you?”

“I do,” he said. The words were ash in his mouth.

“And do you swear to stay steady and true under his guidance, and to follow his will in all things?”

“I swear it.” The only saving grace of this was that Felix was no longer the crybaby he’d been as a child. If he had been, he would be making even more of a fool of himself right now.

“Then you may make your claim on this man,” the priest finished, speaking once more to Sylvain, “and the Goddess will bind you together for all time.”

Sylvain pulled one of his hands away from Felix and reached into his pocket. When he withdrew it, there was a dark metal ring set with a red stone in his palm. Felix caught sight of the Gautier crest engraved into it as Sylvain slid it onto his finger. Once he’d done so, he turned to the priest, who presented Sylvain with a gold ring.

Again, the hall was filled with the sound of cheering. Felix just wanted it all to be over, but the evening had barely begun. He clenched his teeth as Sylvain tugged on his hand and drew him towards the Gautier table.

He tried not to look back at his family. He didn’t know if he’d be able to bear it if he did. Instead, he accepted the cup of wine that was pressed into his hands and tried not to drink it too quickly. He didn’t trust himself to not wreck the whole arrangement if he lost control of his impulses.

The whole evening passed in a blur. A slow moving blur that tortured him with every moment. He felt so hopelessly exposed in the light of the fire blazing in the braziers. It was as if everyone’s eyes were on him. He couldn’t quite focus on anything, but everything moved so slowly anyway.

As the festivities finally started to quieten down a little, Sylvain excused them. “I intend to spend the rest of my evening with my new husband,” he said. There was an edge to his voice that made the Margrave pat him on the back with a laugh, and Felix felt something akin to anxiety jump in his stomach. Sylvain had promised, but it wasn’t like he could resist if he went back on that.

“I’m sorry,” Sylvain murmured into his ear, moments before he swept Felix off his feet once again. He’d barely said more than a handful of words to him since the ceremony, and that only made the nervousness worse. “We won’t do anything you don’t want to. I just wanted to get to bed.”

That, at least, had Felix letting out a shaky breath. He didn’t feel safe in Sylvain’s arms; he felt like a fool. But at least he was shielded from the onlookers in the hall, just a little. At least Sylvain wasn’t taking his power past the point of decency.

Jeering followed them out into the hallway, and Felix didn’t even glance back to see the quiet horror on his father’s face. Idly, Felix wondered when he’d see his family again. If he’d ever see his family again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! :) if you enjoyed this, please please leave a comment - this fic is a bit of a step out of my comfort zone but it's also really fun to try something new!
> 
> I also have a twitter @samariumwriting, I talk about writing sometimes!


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